The Skies Hold Fallen Angels
by Pardra
Summary: Zero enters a city under enemy hold. He isn't supposed to be here, and he definitely isn't supposed to be here alone: But he can't let anyone else face this Maverick.   Teaser chapter for an upcoming story.


The Skies Hold Fallen Angels

AN/Warning: A teaser one-shot of sorts, for an upcoming story.

Warning is for the death of a rabid animal.

00ZERO00

Grey, threatening skies loomed over the ruins of what was once a prosperous metropolis. Before its demise, it had been teeming with life- full of Reploids and humans alike -that had been mercifully untouched by the Virus. Now it was a sprawling carcass, empty and sorrowful. Thankfully, despite nearly every home and business having been shattered like fragile bird bones, the city had been evacuated without the loss of a single human life.

That still didn't change the fact that a formidable settlement had been toppled by a single Irregular.

That was why Zero was here, walking cautiously up to the decrepit skyscraper where the Maverick had last been spotted by fleeing Hunters. Zero knew that the lives of the humans and that last platoon hadn't been spared out of mercy- that had been power and control flaunted: that Maverick could have crushed them all at any time as the citizens were evacuated.

He wasn't afraid of any creeping subordinate mechaniloids in the hollowed-out buildings- this Maverick worked alone, but Zero felt his sensors switch to high alert despite his composure. Then again, maybe he wasn't all that composed…. the air was cold and unsettling with the tang of metal and blood, almost identical scents and both foreboding. Drapes reached pale fingers through shattered windows, seeming like the lonesome ghosts of the Reploids whose bodies had been tossed along the streets. Everything was so...wrong, that Zero's instincts were screaming at him to be prepared to run or fight at any moment.

This Irregular had played with his enemies, and he had held no respect for them.

That shouldn't have been surprising: He was a veteran, and knew few Mavericks retained their honor once the Virus began eating away at their reasoning cortex. Still… Zero had known this one, had expected more. Everything was so...wrong, that Zero's instincts were screaming at him to be prepared to run or fight at any moment.

The Hunter gazed at the ruined shops in a shattered shopping square, wondering at the power that had crushed stone to dust and liquefied the metal bones of Reploids- this was what he would be facing. And though he had been working solo for months since the accident- that horrible misjudgment, that had shattered his world, he wished he had Axl watching his back.

No, Axl shouldn't see this. Axl needed to obey Signas and help rebuild HQ; the very orders Zero had brushed aside to enter this city. Axl deserved to be blissfully unaware of the fickle, mechanical god whose eye was turned upon them all: And pondering their judgment.

Besides, this was Zero's fight and he wasn't going to drag anyone else into it.

Zero's eyes strayed along the dented ground as he entered what was once a backstreet as he wove his way through litter, bodies and chunks of walls on his way to the fortress. He had to reroute several times, backtrack and find alternate streets, or cut through demolished apartments on his way. Some of the damage looked recent, the powdered mortar still light and choking.

_Target practice or boredom? _Zero wondered as he rushed out of the way of a collapsing restaurant he had brushed against. Dust billowed out into a wide alley, creeping along the oil-stained ground.

He found it almost difficult to look up, where laundry still hung on lines like tattered wings. Zero wasn't one to get sentimental over peoples' shirts getting left behind, but beyond those tattered wings was the tower. The fate of the world would be decided in that tower; so much was going to change, no matter who won. He could finally be staring down his death in a matter of minutes- truly this time.

If any Irregular could retire someone for good it was this one: The city wasn't the only proof of that.

A chill wind blasted through the street, whipping the rags overhead into a sharply fluttering storm. Something scraped over the asphalt to his right, a light stuttering sound that set his danger alarms to screaming. As he whirled around, the wind caught his hair up and blew powdered mortar into his eyes. The dust _stung_, but it didn't keep his sensors from telling him something knee-height was approaching from behind a dumpster -had the Irregular broken his pattern and employed mechaniloids? But, no, this thing was organic. Zero scrubbed at his eyes with the flat of his hand, blinking through twitching optics at the growling animal stalking him.

It was a dog.

X had loved animals- particularly the "big three", cats, dogs, and birds –and had brought more than a few strays into his quarters (And they stayed until Signas caught on). Zero really wasn't that fond of them- too much hair. X had loved that.

"_You're a hypocrite, Zero."_

Zero backed away from the scrawny, brindle cur. The dog was skeletal, its fur sunk in between each rib, and its legs shivered. Yellow eyes- so focused and angry they almost looked blind- glared into his. And under those eyes were teeth, dripping with foam.

It was some pet left behind; there was a collar around its neck still. It had been pet, lost in the evacuation, and now the thing was rabid. There must have been a bat or a rat, or something that had slipped through the city's pest control frequency- that or the more likely alternative was that the network for it was broken and the city was now full of wild, maybe-rabid animals.

Zero wasn't sure what the appeal was with pets, they were an unclean, unpredictable lesser being sharing your living space. They relied on their masters to support them, like children, their every need had to be paid for, and unlike children, they never became more self-efficient. But he sympathized.

Some people looked to animals as family- as best friends -and he knew how it felt to lose that.

The starving animal barked at him, spraying foam across the asphalt. It was well into its final days- hours, more like. And now it would wander the streets, dehydrated, and scared out of its mind as the virus ate away at its personality until its body finally gave out. Zero watched the pathetic animal as it growled and shook. There was a thick, growing pain in his chest.

"You poor thing..." He murmured, his right hand flowing over his shoulder and grasping the hilt of his saber.

The alley was filled with the hum of energy, and a green tone washed over the abandoned buildings. The dog didn't flinch, its brain so diseased that the saber wasn't even seen as a threat. Then again, maybe it did- but its mad hatred of Zero was too strong for it to be turned away.

Zero hesitated; it was just a dog. It wasn't sentient, and leaving it to suffer- even only for a few more hours –was cruel. And it was diseased. Rabies was something rare in the modern world: Rare and almost unpreventable. The preventative, HDCV, wasn't used anymore, and the alternative vaccine, PCECV, was almost grossly unethical in a world where livestock was frightfully scarce, though the vaccine _was_ still made. Unlikely as it was that the dog could infect any other organic, he couldn't let it go- rabies was the organic version of the Irregular virus- minus the raw bloodthirst, and with the bonus of a "time-limit". What Zero wouldn't do to give the Irregular Virus a time-limit: It wasn't as good as a cure, but at least there would be no fear of semi-immortal villains lurking in the shadows for countless years.

_It wasn't hard to kill something…_

Zero shrugged off his hesitation and brought his howling blade down, faster than an organic could follow.

_That needed to be put down…_

There was no spurting blood, or squealing feedback in Zero's ears as the emaciated body slumped to the ground. The fragile blood vessels cauterized under the heat of his blade, but the stench was terrible. Zero swallowed hard and stepped away, turning his gaze up the road.

_So why did both his arm and his heart feel so heavy?_

Through the flowing sheets above the alley, Zero's eyes caught a flash of color. Battered armor's cold steel shone. Sunlight striking off Death mechanized, the Maverick stood above his city, surveying with an almost serene air, like a fallen angel.

Zero's face hardened, though his soul ached and he fingered the hilt of his saber. He was the slayer of Irregulars, and this was his fight.

This one was his responsibility.

"I'm coming for you, X."

00ZERO00

AN: This thing kept growing- it was supposed to be posted three days ago! Chapter 2 of _Ars Moriendi_ should be out soon, and then I have this one-shot's main story to work on.


End file.
